


Broken Moon

by koridjinn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crossdressing, Edo Period, Fighting, M/M, bakumatsu au, idk lol, meiji period
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:02:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koridjinn/pseuds/koridjinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Born a bastard, Kenma has long lived under the shadow of his family, barely able to live up to his surname. As war breaks out between the nationalists and the shogunate, the fallen Kozume family offers a bride to the promising Lord Kuroo. Rather than settling on his beautiful sisters, he takes Kenma under his wing instead.<br/>Thrown into a world of loyalty, swordplay and bloodshed, Kenma must learn to survive if he wishes to stay by Kuroo's side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Moon

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello; this is my very first attempt at writing fan-fiction, so please tell me if i do something wrong or if characters are ooc.  
> i've tried to research the bakumatsu to the best of my ability, but if there's anything historically incorrect, please tell me.  
> name was inspired by suika ibuki's theme from touhou, which is sort of relevant? chapter titles are names of haikus by Basho. i've included some japanese words to...set the atmosphere a bit. if you have questions, please ask.  
> well then, enjoy.

_"a cuckoo cries_   
_and through a thicket of bamboo_   
_the late moon shines"_

 

 A lacquered wooden board lay before Kenma, with every second square filled in with black tooth dye. Pale amber eyes swept the miniature battlefield as his mind created imaginary pathways for his wild card - a _kokeshi_ doll with a messy symbol for 'king' scratched into it's wooden head.

Slim fingers lifted the doll by the torso, and hovered it one step backwards - diagonally. Just as the base was to land on the board, Kenma snatched her back up and returned her to the original square. A sigh escaped from his lips, warming his knee _._

He had played himself into a problem.

"Ke-n-ma!"

A foot came crashing down onto the shogi board, sending 20 kokeshi dolls in all shapes and sizes into the air. The snapping of wood sent him out of his reverie, lips curling into an open frown.

The sight of the board he had spent two weeks of his income on, broken, formed an uncomfortable bulge in his throat. Fingers shaking, mouth wide open but tongue unable to move, Kenma looked up at the perpetrator.

A young woman don in a cornflower-blue kimono stared down with piercing golden eyes.

"I called for you three times. Can you not hear?" she snarled.

The grating sound of her voice pulled him into a bowing position, eyes downcast towards his bruised knuckles.

"I apologise, ane-ue," he croaked. "I did not hear you summon me."

Keiko grasped his ear between her fingers and pulled, shooting panic through Kenma's mind. He crashed onto his left elbow, but his sister did not loosen her grip. The pain drove itself into his mind as he bit into his cheeks to resist screaming.

"Are your ears not working?" she breathed into his ear.

He was barely able to register her words.

"Or did your whore of a mother not give you any?"

Kenma felt his stomach heave.  She released his ear, and his hands flew to it immediately. It throbbed dully and felt hot against his fingertips.

"If you don't hear me next time, I'll rip it off."

A rumbling like water beginning to boil started in Kenma's chest. His shivering form did not dare look up at Keiko looming over him.

"A Lord is coming to visit today."

Like I didn't know that, Kenma thought.

"I want you to fetch me Miyako-nee's wisteria pin."

He froze.

"B-but ane-ue..."

"Did you say something?" Her voice was like ice.

He quickly shook his head.

"Good. Bring it to me at noon, just before the Lord arrives." Keiko snickered. "That way, Miyako-nee won't be able to take it off me. Understood?"

"Yes, ane-ue."

As she spun around, a familiar floral fragrance was sent Kenma's way. When the soft patter of her feet against the wooden deck began to fade, he lifted his head, then his eyes.

From behind, Keiko seemed delicate, even harmless. The way the sleeves of her _furisode_ fluttered along her and the curtain of golden brown hair that followed was a sight to behold.

But just as he would find bunches of worms in the first apples of spring, Kenma knew very well that looks were meant to deceive.

* * *

 

"Why is your ear red?"

Kenma could feel his older brother's eyes shooting daggers at the piece of crimson sticking out from his tied-back hair. He stared down at his nails, cut violently short, and shifted from one foot to another.

"I...burnt it in the sun..." he murmured.

"In Autumn?" Mamoru asked.

Kenma stiffened.

"It doesn't matter. Hanako's _haori_ was eaten by moths." His brother sighed. "Go into town and wager the seamstress for a new one." He narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "Don't come back until you buy it for half the original price."

The younger boy nodded, and was handed a heavy sack of coins. He tied it tightly around the sash of his hakama, fingers fumbling through the knots.

"Don't lose it," Mamoru prompted.

"Yes."

"Don't bump into people."

"Yes."

"Don't give her the wrong sum either."

"Understood."

"Go," his brother ordered, waving his navy sleeve at the direction of the door.

Kenma bowed curtly before slipping through the door and kneeling to close it. As he rushed past the courtyard, a sinking feeling began to emerge within him.

The sun shone from the east, turning the leaves scarlet.

 

* * *

 

One day, his mother did not wake up. He did not understand why the women around them were whispering and staring.

A man came to the row house and knelt down before him.

"Why won't okaa-san wake up?" he asked.

The man, whose eyes were deep gold just like his, could only smile.

"Where are we going?" he asked. The clothes on his body were stiff and heavy. They called the tan robe a _kosode_ and his puffy blue pants a _hakama._  

His fingers wrapped around the older man's thumb as they walked through a garden. Three men followed them, dressed in black and grey.

They sat in a room with 6 other people, who stared at him like cats watching mice. The boy cowered behind the man's pants.

"Mamoru. Miyako. Sumiko. Hanako. Keiko. Asami." The man called. He pulled the boy forward. "This is Kenma. He is my son."

The room was silent. Kenma stared down at his feet, which were covered by strange white fabric.

"Kenma. Do you understand? I  am your father."

He looked up. "Fa...ther?"

"Yes. From now on, you will be living with us, your family."

"Family?"

"That's right. From now on, your name will be Kozume Kenma."

 

* * *

 

At first, Kenma did not understand what it meant to be a Kozume; to have a family, to live in a mansion, to carry this name.

Then he began to learn.

It meant bruises - spotting his arms, his hips, and a red mark in the shape of fingers splattered across his cheek. Marks of shame, marks of "You dropped it didn't you, Kenma?" and marks for the "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"'s that were ignored again and again.

It meant backs - so many of them, towering above him, walling him out. Doors, they were backs too, shutting him out from the faces inside. Eyes did not grow on the backs of heads - so they never lay sight upon him.

It meant tears. Waterfalls, seeping through his fingers and drying on his neck.

Yet between the pain there was bittersweet solace. The sensation of cool fingers running through his hair, wet silk against his tear-stained cheeks. The warm chest he rested upon, body wrapped up in overflowing sleeves. She carried the scent of summer air, nostalgic and kindly.

"Shhh," she would whisper, voice gentle like a riverside brook.

"Cry as you need, Kenma-kun. Onee-san will look after you."  

It was Sumiko. It always was.

Sumiko, whose hair was the colour of dark sugar, gleaming gold in the afternoon sun. Her eyes not gold but black as coals, like her pupils never contracted into a condescending size. The corners of her lips lifted upwards even when she was resting, and when she smiled it was brighter than the setting sun.

"This is my brother!" she would say cheerfully.

It was beside her that Kenma learnt to read faces. Sumiko, who never saw anything that was but pure and bright was blind to the smirks and scowls that followed her. She never heard the jealous whispers from Hanako, Keiko and Miyako-nee.

"Why do all the noblemen want to marry _her?_ She has nothing but looks."

"What's so special about black eyes anyway?"

How he pitied his sister, so beautiful and naive. How his pity turned to sorrow, and sorrow turned to anger. He would give the world to protect that delicate innocence, so that no one could ever dim out her brilliance.

The day she left, three years ago, his fingers had trembled as he pinned up her hair. Sumiko was the epitome of a bride-to-be, dressed in daffodil-yellow and sakura-pink. She had twirled for him - once, twice, three times - then landed against him, folding him into a hug.

"Kenma. Please be strong for me."

From the moment he waved her off to where he was now - being kicked by his sisters, ignored by his step-mother, abandoned by his teachers and playing errand boy for his elder brother - he had tolerated, tolerated and tolerated some more.

Nothing could be worse than this, he thought. Nothing could ever be worse than this.

* * *

 

The situation at the seamstress's was as bad has he had predicted.

"This haori has a popular pattern. I won't take anything less than full price."

Kenma had shuffled between his feet, unable to meet the seamstress's hawk-like eyes.

"But I...I really need...it..." he had mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Half...price...I only have the money..." His voice had slowly faded away.

"Like I said, boy. I can't sell this for any less. If you won't take my deal, then scram."

His heartbeat quickened as he felt two people gather behind him. A series of options played out in his head. He could wager some more and get the haori, but that would take forever and the people behind him would get mad. Perhaps there was a chance he wouldn't even get the haori as the woman seemed rather adamant.

So he chose the simplest option. Kenma bowed quickly, then dashed away from the seamstress's store and made his way into an alleyway.

There, he curled himself up and panicked. He couldn't get the haori. What should he do? Again and again, the same ominous thoughts sifted through his mind as time ticked on by. He could go home - but his brother had told him not to return without the robe, and for half price too.

He wasn't sure how long he spent dreading about his situation until he heard a man call out from the market road.

"Kokeshi dolls! Kokeshi dolls! Get your rare kokeshi dolls!"

At the sound of this, Kenma rose to his feet and shuffled to the stall on the side of the gravel road.

Rows of little wooden dolls with cone-shaped bodies and round heads were on lined up for display on the stall's table. Inspired by the bright colours, he picked them up one by one, imagining how they would look on his custom shogi board.

What kind of doll represented 'king' the best? A lord? A peasant?

Time continued to elapse until he felt the top of his head gather heat from the midday sun.

And he panicked.

"Where were you? And where is the haori?"

His brother had changed into a boxy, dark blue robe and his hair was pulled back so tightly Kenma was surprised his hairline was not receding by the second.

"I...got lost..."

"You got lost?"

He scratched the back of his hand absent-mindedly and nodded.

Mamoru removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily as he did so.

Three years ago, Kenma would have frozen at this response. Now, it was one they both expected.

"Do I have to explain to you once again why this visit is so important?"

The word 'no' waited at the tip of his tongue, but he did not open his mouth.

"Back in my - _our_ grandfather's day, the Kozume were nobles in court."

Here we go again, Kenma thought.

"My - _our_ family was famous for our lineage of beautiful women and noble men. For many years we held our position in court and were trusted by the Emperor.

However, not everyone appreciated us as his Highness did. One of the families decided to frame your grandfather for treason. The Emperor...who was... _shockingly_ naive to believe in the jealous fools exiled us from court, leaving us to live in poverty and shame."

Mamoru's fan-collection framed against the wall could say nothing about poverty.

"The Emperor does not deserve an ally as noble as us. The Shogun himself has treated us with more respect than he ever has. Thus, we must join forces against this... _new_ Government and the Emperor himself. And to do that, Kenma..."

Hearing his own name snapped him out of a reverie that involved how he was going to save enough money for a new shogi board.

"We must form an unbreakable bond between two sides - by offering an esteemed Kozume daughter to a trusted vassal of the Shogun."

Kenma did not know who this vassal was, but he was definitely not a lucky man if he had to marry one of his sisters.

"And that is why, Kenma, your mistake today will not be taken lightly. I will be retracting your wages for a month, and chichi-ue will hear about this."

The younger boy felt like he had been shoved into a winter pond. He looked up to his brother, a fool in his eyes, and held back the urge to protest.

"My - _our_ parents have left me with the instructions for you to remain in your room while the lord is visiting. A servant will inform you when it is time for you to leave."

Kenma nodded - his throat felt constricted as the shock settled into him.

"The money."

His fingers were barely able to untie the sack, to which he had to resort to undoing his entire sash and walking away with the waist of his hakama bunched in his hands.

At first, his steps were small and stiff. Then he began to march, shifting into a jog, and then a dash. Down the hall he went, turning onto the outdoor corridor to avoid running into anyone. Thoughts flew in and out of his mind like flies - angry flies, hurt flies, frustrated flies. He didn't know which one to trust, which one to rely on for self-comfort, because they were all coming from the same ominous place in his head.

His foot slipped on a leaf, sending Kenma crashing onto the deck. His head hammered into the pine, knocking the light out of his eyes. In the distance, heard the bell ring signalling the arrival of guests.

As his breath shuddered under the weight of the heart, he remembered something very important.

Somewhere, in the Kozume house, Keiko was staring at the pin on the back of her sister's head, cursing Kenma under her breath.

* * *

 

"Oi! Shirayuki! Shirayuki!"

The man thought that after 4 months of riding this particular horse she would have settled down. However, she was still as stubborn as ever, and he wasn't sure what he was doing wrong.

He had been told that his hair was the problem, but that was out of his control.

"Shirayuki! Come here girl!"

His lower back continued to throb from when he fell from the horse. As he wandered deeper into the bamboo garden, he hoped his companions had arrived already and informed them of his deterrence.

How embarrassing, he thought, for the groom to arrive _after_ the bride.

Hearing a low whinny, he spotted his horse nibbling at the shoot of a bamboo stalk. With his worries vanishing, he entered the thicket itself.

"There you are," he murmured, being careful not to come up from behind her. He pulled the leather reins back over Shirayuki's head and pulled her away from her afternoon snack.

"That's a good girl," he coaxed, leading the horse away.

As he propped his foot onto the stirrup, he heard a very tiny mew. The man's ears pricked like an animal's.

"Setsu, go."

His hand reflexively went to his blade. A person? At the back of the manor?

"I have to go. Shoo."

The voice was mild, boyish. All priorities of heading back to the entrance was forgotten as his curiosity grabbed a hold of him.

With Shirayuki behind him, the man paced slowly, further into the forest. The bamboo was replaced by shrubs, sunlight peeking through between the branches. The man crouched down, disappointed his horse did not know how to do the same.

Looking through a gap in the jasmine bush, he spotted a person crouching in a tiny courtyard, shadowed by a large maple tree. Deep red leaves were scattered around their feet, offsetting the blueness of their hakama. A slim, pale hand reached out to stroke a white kitten sitting before them.

It was the hair that fascinated the man the most. The roots were a dark, chestnut brown, which faded into a dark blonde by the ends.

From what the rumours said, they were most definitely a Kozume. Did all of them have such unique hair? The man felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation.

"Let's go, Shirayuki."

The man pulled himself onto his horse in one swift motion, then kicked her into a gallop. He hoped his companions wouldn't be... _too_ mad.

 

In the courtyard, Kenma looked up in confusion at a figure in red and black robes, riding away on a snow-white horse.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like i did a kind of lazy job with the writing but if i dawdle too long on it the plot will move nowhere...  
> so yeah, my first chapter. feel free to critique on how i can improve this and any errors, i'll do my best to respond.


End file.
